


they say i'll be okay (but i'm not going to ever get over you)

by jcp_sob_rjl_lmep



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, sad songfic take two: electric boogaloo, takes place in the time after jason dies and before he comes back to life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcp_sob_rjl_lmep/pseuds/jcp_sob_rjl_lmep
Summary: Dick broke down over his little brother’s grave.It felt like a sick joke, but Dick was still waiting for the punchline.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	they say i'll be okay (but i'm not going to ever get over you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alaneii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaneii/gifts).



> Happy birthday Lo! Ily and I hope this fic is everything you were dreaming of.

_Weatherman said it's gonna snow_

_By now I should be used to the cold_

The Christmas tree was still up in Wayne Manor, despite the fact that it was the middle of February. When Dick had seen it, his heart had seized in his chest, and Alfred had said, quietly, that Jason had been insistent upon not having Christmas before his older brother could be home to celebrate with him.

How painfully ironic was it that, now that Dick was home to celebrate, it was his little brother who was gone? That Jason himself hadn’t even made it to Christmas, that he had died several days before, that his body was lowered into the ground only a few days after, while Dick had been out in deep space, unaware that his little brother was dead, let alone being buried.

_Mid-February shouldn't be so scary_

_It was only December_

_I still remember the presents, the tree, you and me_

Dick had departed for his mission not long after Thanksgiving, so because it was within the season, Alfred allowed them to put up the family tree early. The day before he left, he’d come home and found Jason, sitting on top of a box of decorations, waiting next to the tree with his legs swinging away. When Dick had stepped into the room, Jason had lit up, jumping from his box and beginning to unpack ornaments even before Dick could say hello.

Dick had grabbed him and tickled him for that, and it was only after Jason had gasped out an _uncle_ that they had started working. Dick remembered so clearly the adoration and wonder on Jason’s face every time he pulled out an ornament that was specifically for him, even the ‘Baby’s First Christmas!’ that Dick had gotten for him as a joke the first Christmas he had been with the family.

It caught the light as Dick glanced up, and he screwed his eyes shut against the fresh shock of pain.

When they had put up everything but the tree topper (the one part that they always waited for Bruce to help with), Jason had jumped off to his room and returned with a box already wrapped in paper. With a grin, he’d explained that it was Dick’s gift, and he’d just have to spend his whole mission wondering what he was going to get for Christmas, so _ha_.

Staring at the presents waiting under the tree, labeled to both Dick and Jason, Dick thought he’d never wanted less to open presents in his life.

_But you went away_

_How dare you?_

_I miss you_

Wayne Manor was quiet now, dark and dull; its three inhabitants stepped quietly and didn’t often speak to each other. Dick, personally, spent most of his days in that living room; he hadn’t yet unpacked from his mission, because he had unzipped a suitcase and found all of the little gifts and trinkets he had tucked away to give to his little brother. He’d been planning on wrapping them individually, both because it would be fun for Jason and because it would be irritating for the teen to unwrap all of the little parcels.

He was barely sleeping, barely eating; he was having dreams where he and Jason would be hanging out, and then he would turn to his little brother and Jason’s eyes would be gazing at him sightlessly, asking him to help, screaming Dick’s name.

Bruce wasn’t really talking to Dick (to anyone), but he was still waking him every night, rocking him as he sobbed, and Dick was kind enough not to mention the way he could feel Bruce’s own tears soaking his hair.

The one and only time Dick had ventured out into Gotham, he had broken a reporter’s nose. There weren’t going to be any charges pressed; it was hard to make a case when the cameraman had footage of the reporter holding up his microphone and asking Dick what it was like to be back in his rightful place now that the street trash was gone. Dick didn’t even remember deciding to hit him; he remembered the crunch of cartilage under his fist, the gush of blood, the bystander who’d rushed over and grabbed him, hauling him away from the reporter before he could do any worse.

Clark really was good at tucking his cape under his clothes in a way that it couldn’t be seen.

_Your favorite records make me feel better_

_Cause you sing along_

_With every song_

_I know you didn't mean to give them to me_

Dick wondered what Jason would think to see him now, sitting in the living room and listening to country music. He wasn’t picky; mostly, he was putting on Jason’s playlists and letting the music rush over him without even paying attention to the words.

But sometimes a song would come on and it would be like a punch to the sternum, a sudden vision of Jason standing over him, that grin lighting up his blue eyes.

_C’mon, Dickie, it’s not that bad!_

_Diiiiiick, come dance with me…_

And the way he would laugh when Dick would finally jump from the couch, snatching Jason up and spinning them around and around, nearly to the point of making them both sick before they would collapse, breathless with laughter.

These were Jason’s songs, not Dick’s.

His breath shuddered out in a sob and he vaguely wondered who he was trying to convince, sitting on a couch listening to music with the ghost of his little brother.

He’d listen to only country music for the rest of his life if it meant that Jason would be listening too.

_It really sinks in, you know, when I see it in stone_

Dick’s first stop in Gotham after getting back was the cemetery; still wearing mission blacks, still covered in the usual grime from travel, he’d dropped to his knees on his little brother’s grave. His little brother’s grave.

Jason was below him, below this dirt, and Dick had been gone long enough that grass was already growing over his plot.

After a moment, Dick realized that the odd wailing keen was coming from his own mouth, the headstone blurring before him as tears dripped from his eyes. He was hitting the ground, could feel his body rocking with the movement, but his hands were numb.

He fought away from the arms that tried to wrap around him, the comfort of _dad-is-here-dad-is-safe_ contrasting with the roaring anger that someone should have been there, someone should have been protecting him, that Jason’s death rested on the shoulders of Bruce and Alfred and Dick and every single goddamned hero in the universe who should have known that Jason Peter Todd-Wayne was dying and who had let him die.

Dick broke down over his little brother’s grave.

It felt like a sick joke, but Dick was still waiting for the punchline.

_They say I'll be OK_

_But I'm not going to ever get over you_

Superman was waiting when the ship docked, letting the somber mission-goers disembark. They parted around him, most not even looking in his direction; they had been within comm range for an hour, and they knew why he was there.

Nightwing walked out with Flash at his side, beelining for Superman.

“Tell me it’s not true.” He said quietly, and Superman had never wanted so much to lie. “Uncle Clark, please.”

But Superman had been too late that day, and when he had woken up to a desperate comm, a rasped, “Clark, you have to be there, he’s going to get the message and he’s going to need someone, you have to be there,” he had looked at the clock and known that he would be too late for this, too.

“Dick,” He said gently, and it hurt so much more to break this news when it was about a boy who he had loved, to a boy that he loved, two boys who he had watched grow unknowing that one would be so cruelly cut short.

“No. No!” And Nightwing spun for the zetas before his uncle or his best friend could stop him, disappearing to Gotham in a chase after the little brother that he would never be able to catch.

**Author's Note:**

> Downloads are fine but please don't post this anywhere else without my permission.  
> Feel free to come catch me on [tumblr](https://iwillstaywiththemforever.tumblr.com).  
> 


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